


all dead paper, mute and white

by kim47



Series: summerpornathon 2012 [4]
Category: Merlin (TV)
Genre: Angst, F/F, Pre-Series
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-07-16
Updated: 2012-07-16
Packaged: 2017-11-10 02:07:42
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 746
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/461078
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kim47/pseuds/kim47
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>
  <i>Ygraine looks beautiful tonight, as she always does, but there are tears in her eyes now, and Nimueh hates herself for putting them there.</i>
</p>
<p>Nimueh and Ygraine, on the night before Ygraine's wedding to Uther.</p>
            </blockquote>





	all dead paper, mute and white

**Author's Note:**

> For challenge 4 at [summerpornathon](http://summerpornathon): minor characters.

“I don’t want to.” Her voice is trembling around the edges, eyes wide where they meet Nimueh’s in the mirror.

“It won’t be so bad.” It’s poor comfort, she knows, but all she has to offer. Ygraine doesn’t seem to believe her; she turns in her seat and catches Nimueh’s hands in her own.

“I don’t love him,” she says. Nimueh pulls her hands free gently, reaching up to cup Ygraine’s face.

“You may, in time,” she says softly, thumbs rubbing along the jut of her cheekbones. 

“I _won’t_ ,” Ygraine insists. She leans forward to rest her forehead against Nimueh’s and closes her eyes. “I can’t,” she breathes. “Not as I love - ”

“Don’t,” Nimueh whispers, begging. “Please, don’t say it, not now.” It will undo her, send them both tumbling down a path there is no retreat from. She has seen it.

Ygraine’s hands come up to cradle her head, and Nimueh can feel Ygraine’s breath on her lips, can almost taste her. It’s too much and not nearly enough.

She stumbles backwards and her eyes fly open, she can’t bear it, how much she wants, needs, Ygraine. Has always needed her.

Ygraine looks beautiful tonight, as she always does, but there are tears in her eyes now, and Nimueh hates herself for putting them there. Ygraine stands slowly, as though afraid Nimueh will spook and run, hesitating before she steps towards her. When Nimueh just stands, frozen, she moves closer, closer, until her arms are around Nimueh’s waist, her face buried in her neck.

She’s mumbling something into her skin, words it will break Nimueh to hear, words that she longs for all the same. Ygraine raises her head.

“Please,” she says. Nimueh cannot deny her.

The kiss starts out soft, a shudder of lips against lips, Ygraine’s fingers sliding into her hair, holding her steady, anchoring her. The smallest movement, the tiniest pressure, Nimueh holding herself together by the most tattered of threads. She can feel her magic flaring inside her, rushing and building, golden and fire-hot, waiting to spill and ignite and consume.

Then Ygraine moves closer, her hand sliding back to tilt Nimuh’s head, her breasts pressing against Nimueh’s, her tongue reaching out tentatively to touch at her lips and she’s lost.

Nothing else, ever, will matter to her again. 

She undresses Ygraine, as she has done many times before. But it’s different this time, reverent, and Ygraine’s hands are never still, moving over her body, removing one garment for each Nimueh takes from her.

She lays her gently on the bed, but Ygraine tugs her down after her, and rolls them so she’s underneath. 

“Let me do this for you,” she says into Nimueh’s mouth, her hand sliding down to cup her breast. “Let me, please.”

Ygraine slides her leg between Nimueh’s and rocks against her, moving her hips _exquisitely_ , and Nimueh’s clutching at her shoulders, breathing heavy, heart pounding. The magic is thrumming under her skin, she can feel it quickening. It wants to bubble out of her, surround her lover, bind itself to her.

By the time she comes, she’s sobbing, and Ygraine holds her afterwards, curling her body around her.

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” is all she can get out. It’s all wrong; she was supposed to be comforting Ygraine, she’s supposed to be the strong one. Not this sobbing, wretched mess.

Ygraine turns her head so she can look her in the eye and traces her fingers along Nimueh’s face.

“I will be married tomorrow,” she says, calm now where she was so anxious before. “You were right, I must. He is a good man, I think, and he loves me.” Ygraine kisses her softly. “But I shall never love as I love you, and I do not desire to.”

Nimueh draws a shaky breath. “My magic is for you,” she says, clutching Ygraine fiercely. “It knows you and it loves you. I will always be here and I will always serve you, whatever happens.”

It’s not enough, Nimueh knows. She has dreams, dreams of fighting, of burning. They are always too hazy to be useful, too shadowy and ephemeral, but she knows the end, when it comes, will be savage.

For now, she kisses Ygraine again, harder, deeper. She runs her hands over her skin as if she can never touch enough, memorises the dip of her spine and the curve of her hips.

“I won’t let anything happen to you,” she promises futilely. “I won’t.”


End file.
